


500 Days of Holtzmann

by livinglights (Langus)



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: All The Tropes, Dancing, Date Night, F/F, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Holtzbert - Freeform, Kissing in the Rain, Movie Night, Sexy Times, Slow Burn, Some Explicit Scenes, play on 500 Days of Summer, warnings are posted at the beginning of those chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-08 13:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7759945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Langus/pseuds/livinglights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erin finds herself slowly falling for her teammate, one "first time" at a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> The chapters are of varying length. Some of the early ones are a bit shorter for stylistic reasons, and the later ones are longer. Hope you enjoy!

The first time Holtzmann touches her it’s in the form of a pinky swear. The juvenile oath to break all oaths that every sixth grader holds to be completely sacrosanct. It’s Tuesday, which means invention testing day. Erin is standing next to a table of weaponry, all of it designed to exterminate ghosts. Her eyes carefully peruse the offerings and she selects one that looks vaguely like a shotgun.

“That’s my newest one – a proton shotgun,” Holtzmann tells her with a proud gleam in her eye. “It self-loads so all you need to do is point it and shoot.”

Erin tests the weight of it in her hands, then braces it against her shoulder and aims the barrel at their ghost target. Her finger hovers over the trigger and then quickly backs off.

“This won’t blow up in my face, will it?”

Holtzmann hesitates and Erin utters an exasperated sigh, “I thought we talked about this. No untested weapons on Test Day!”

“It'll work,” Holtzmann assures her with a smile. “I promise, no exploding guns.”

“Pinky swear?”

The engineer laughs and sticks out her pinky finger, “Pinky swear.”

She hooks her pinky around Erin’s and holds her gaze as she gives it two light shakes. Erin’s heart unexpectedly stutters and she hurriedly looks away, feigning interest in the proton shotgun in her hand. Bracing the gun against her shoulder, she aims it at the target and fires. It doesn’t explode in her face, just as Holtzmann promised, but it does completely decimate the target.

“Impressive,” she comments with an approving nod. “Nice work, Holtzmann!”

The engineer smiles wide and delivers the next invention to be tested into her waiting hands.


	2. Day 27

The first time Holtzmann hugs her, she’s just been dragged through hell and back.

In hindsight, jumping into a vortex that leads straight to the spirit realm with nothing more than a bit of wire looped around her waist wasn’t he most well thought out plan. Had she given any thought to it whatsoever she might not have made the leap. But in the moment, with Abby’s life hanging in the balance, there hadn’t been time to think or contemplate, there’d only been time to act. And so she’d thrown herself into the vortex, knowing it was closing behind her, and hoped for the best.

When they make their ungraceful entrance back into the realm of the living, she lays atop the concrete sidewalk disoriented and a bit shaky. Had she really just done that? Had she and Abby travelled through a vortex to the ghost realm and come back alive?

She blinks up at the sun, momentarily blinded by its light, and then she’s being hauled up by an unknown pair of hands and pulled into a tight embrace. It takes a moment for her to realize whose arms are holding her up and then another for her mind to play catch up and hug Holtzmann back.

When Holtz eventually pulls away she catches a glimpse of unshed tears glistening in her eyes and is taken aback. Were those tears for her? Her cheeks flush and she suddenly feels flustered. Having someone be so worried about her is an unfamiliar feeling. She’s spent so long alone, hiding behind her walls, she’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone care for you _that much._

It takes her by surprise and leaves her flustered. She looks away, suddenly too shy to make eye contact with the girl who just helped save her life. Her heart hammers inside her chest and her hands shake, but it has nothing to do with their ordeal. She spends the rest of the night thinking about that moment, about Holtz’s tears and her hug, and wondering what it all means.

Three days later at a midtown bar she hears Holtz give a speech. She learns that Abby was her first real friend and suddenly all the pieces fit. The tears weren’t for her after all. And that hug was nothing more than an impulsive expression of her gratitude. Erin frowns into her pint glass and struggles to understand why she suddenly feels so disappointed.


	3. Day 42

The first time she learns the secret handshake, they’ve just returned from busting a few ghosts at Grand Central Station. Holtzmann is cocky and full of vigor the way she always is when they successfully complete a mission.

Erin loads the ghost traps into the containment unit and watches Abby and Holtz exchange their elaborate handshake out of the corner of her eye. She’d never admit it, but the fact that Abby has that connection with Holtz leaves her feeling like an outsider. It’s a constant reminder that for years she put own interests ahead of her friendship with Abby. And in that time, Abby has found her new person in Holtzmann.

She didn’t begrudge either of them for it, far from it, but it was a painful reminder of past mistakes. She deserved to feel like crap about it, and she did. She’d earned it.

“Thanks for helping with the traps,” Holtzmann thanks her with a grin. “You did some good work out there today!”

Erin feels her cheeks grow hot the way they always do every time someone compliments her. It’s an automatic reaction brought on by years of being criticized as a kid. Even now, as a successful independent adult, she finds it hard to truly believe anyone when they think she’s done something worthy of praise.

Holtzmann holds her hand up for a victorious high five and Erin delivers a somewhat lackluster slap.

“That’s all you’ve got? How am I ever going to teach you the secret handshake if that’s what I’m working with?”

Erin starts and looks up, her eyes finding Holtzmann’s, “Really? You’d teach me the handshake?”

“Of course!”

A shy smile crosses her lips as warmth bubbles up through her chest at the thought of finally being part of the group in a way she hadn’t been before this moment. She’s no longer the outsider or the former friend, she’s part of it now and every fibre of her being feels ready to burst with happiness.

Holtzmann spends the next 15 minutes teaching her the handshake and practicing it with her. Their matching smiles are ever-present and Erin feels a shock of disappointment run through her when Holtz determines she’s gotten the hang of it and returns to her work.

Erin practices that night in the shower and again in the morning while she’s getting dressed. Each time her smile seems to linger a bit longer than before, and she wonders if it’d be completely transparent for her to “forget” a couple of steps to see if Holtzmann would spend a few minutes teaching them to her again.


	4. Day 125

The first time Holtzmann comes over for a “Girl’s Night In”, it’s at the tail end of a very rough week.

Her revised edition of “Ghosts From Our Past” was rejected by every reputable university publishing house, bringing all of her previous self-doubts roaring to the surface. She couldn’t explain why she was so determined to have her research accepted by other scientists in the field, but it was almost an obsession at this point.

While internally she knew the work they were doing, the work they did every single day, was important and valid and had merit, somehow it all counted for nothing unless another scientist reviewed that work and found truth in their findings. Was validity too much to ask for? She didn’t think so, but 12 rejection letters in one day was a blow even she couldn’t easily shake off.

Holtzmann suggested they do something to get her mind off of it. Erin figured she was probably just tired of watching her mope around the fire hall, so she agreed to a low-key night – pizza and a movie at her place. Holtzmann grinned wide and determined that she’d bring the pizza if Erin supplied the movie.

She shows up on time at 7:00, with two pizza boxes in hand as promised - pepperoni and cheese, Erin’s favourite, and vegetable with pineapple for herself.

“I don’t know how you can eat that,” Erin comments with a shake of her head. “The pineapple flavour takes over the pizza like some sort of parasitic organism.”

Holtzmann takes a large bite of her pineapple filled slice and grins as she chews and swallows it down.

“So what movie did you pick?”

Erin holds up two DVDs and glances hesitantly between them, “Ghost” or “Casper”.

“Stop me if I’m wrong, but I’m sensing a theme…” Holtzmann jokes.

“I can’t decide. Romantic Patrick Swayze, or cute child ghost?”

Holtzmann puts in her vote for “cute child ghost” and sips at her soda. Erin sets “Ghost” aside and pops “Casper” into the DVD player.

Forty minutes into the movie and Holtzmann has curled up on 2/3 of the couch. Erin watches the silent rise and fall of her shoulders long enough that she loses her place in the movie and has to rewind a few scenes to catch up. With a gentle hand she shakes Holtz’s shoulder and askes if she wants a cushion. The engineer mutteres something unintelligible and shifts her body along the couch until her head is resting atop Erin’s thigh.

“I didn’t mean me…” she mutters under her breath, but can’t find it in her heart to ask her to move. Having nowhere else to rest her hand, she settles it atop Holtz’s shoulder and turns her attention back to the movie.

It becomes increasingly difficult to follow the story when her eyes keep drifting down to the girl sleeping soundly on her lap. She feels an overwhelming urge to brush her hair back from her face. Just once, just a light touch of her hand. She stares, contemplating if she should, until she notices the credits are rolling. With a quiet sigh she turns off the TV and Holtzmann wakes up.

“Did I miss it?”

“Only the last hour,” she teases with a smile.

Holtzmann sits up slowly and looks around disoriented, “Sorry,  didn’t mean to fall asleep in your lap. I’m sure that’s not proper house guest etiquette.”

Erin gives a light shrug of her shoulders, “It’s okay. I didn’t mind.”

It was the truth. She didn’t mind. In fact, she’d experienced more casual intimacy in the last hour than she had in years and longed for more, but at the risk of sounding like a weirdo she keeps that thought to herself.

Holtzmann leaves shortly after, promising another movie night soon. Erin vows to bring the pizza next time, with one whole pie covered in pineapple just for Holtzmann.

She closes the door behind her and lets out a quiet sigh. She sets about tidying up the empty pizza boxes. A small stack of rejection letters sits on the table beneath them. Bundling them together, she tosses the lot in the trash without a second thought.


	5. Day 201

The first time they go out for drinks together, just the two of them, Holtz takes her to a new bar that just opened up a few blocks from the fire hall. They’re not inside ten minutes before a guy approaches and asks if he can buy them a round. Erin hesitates, but Holtzmann grins and agrees, inviting him to pull up a chair at their table.

He’s a law clerk who works at a firm on 6th. He hates his job, hates his boss, and his name is Jonathan. They learn all of that within the first five minutes, but Holtzmann keeps pumping him for information, asking question after question while appearing thoroughly enthralled by whatever comes out of his mouth.

Erin quietly drinks her beer and develops an acute understanding of what it feels like to be a third wheel. She’s been a third wheel before, but never quite so blatantly and it’d never annoyed her as much as it did tonight. She excuses herself to go to the bathroom and Holtzmann gives her a curious look, but lets her go without a word.

She spends ten minutes staring at her reflection in the mirror in the too small basement bathroom. Her fingers comb through her bone straight hair and then try to arrange her bangs in a way that looks more appealing than “blah”. She pinches her cheeks next and presses her lips together to get a bit of colour into them. It works, marginally. With a quick glance around to make sure she’s alone, she adjusts her breasts in her bra next, lifting them into place so they fill everything out the way they’re supposed to. It’s not much, but she feels marginally better when she walks out of the bathroom to find Holtzmann waiting for her in the hall.

“Are you okay?” she asks as her eyes scan her from head to toe.

Erin attempts a casual shrug, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You just sort of disappeared.”

“I had to go to the bathroom.”

Holtzmann’s expression suggests she doesn’t believe a word. She stuffs her hands into the pockets of her slacks and leans back against the wall, “What’s going on. Truth.”

Erin exhales a quiet sigh, “Truth? I was taking a break from being the third wheel.”

Holtzmann’s face falls, “Hey, sorry. I didn’t realize…”

“It’s fine,” Erin tells her and suddenly feels silly for saying anything at all. She hates the way Holtz is looking at her now, all guilty and disappointed. “You were having fun. I’m just being a Debbie Downer.”

Holtzmann’s quiet for a minute and then tilts her head towards the back exit, “You wanna get out of here?”

“What about Jonathan?”

 “He’ll survive. I was using him for the free drinks anyway,” she says with a sly grin.

Erin’s mouth drops open, “That’s so devious! I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“So, are we gonna make a run for it?”

She holds out her hand and Erin takes it without thinking twice.

Holtzmann leads her through the doors of the back exit and up the narrow concrete stairs to the street. They laugh with the rush of it as their feet come to a stumbling halt on the sidewalk.

Holtz releases her hand and Erin quickly tucks it into her jacket pocket to preserve the warmth of Holtz’s touch. The feeling of their fingers entwined was like electricity running through her. She doesn't quite know how to process it just yet, but she knows she wants to hold her hand again. Her mind struggles to find a scenario, any excuse really, but can’t think of one where it wouldn’t seem strange or out of place.

“Where to, Captain?” Holtz asks with a wide grin.

“Your call, Number One. The night is young.”

“I was hoping you were a secret Star Trek nerd,” she gushes with a wink. “There’s a video game bar not far from here. I bet you ten bucks I could whoop your butt at Mario Cart.”

Erin feels a slow smile spread across her lips, “Make it twenty.”

“Woooo,” Holtz teases, “someone’s feeling generous tonight!”

“You better save some of that cockiness for the ring. Cause you’re goin’ down!”

They rib each other back and forth the entire way to the second bar. Erin laughs so much her cheeks hurt and she can't remember the last time she had so much fun on a date. Her mind trips over the word “date” and then quickly dismisses it. This isn't a "date", not like that. It's just two friends hanging out and having a great time.

Still, she can’t remember the last time she was on a date she hoped would never end. Or one where her stomach flutters with perpetual butterflies at the thought of holding someone’s hand again. This was definitely not a date, but a part of her really wanted it to be.


	6. Day 295

The first time they kiss she’s drunk and crying. It’s a completely undignified scene. Tequila is always a bad choice, especially in large amounts. Mostly because it gets her drunker than a frat boy at a kegger in three shots or less, but also because it makes her an emotional mess. Somehow tequila possesses the magic ability to reduce her to an emotional basketcase who cries at the drop of a hat and can't seem to find a single redeeming quality in herself.

Holtzmann is unfortunate enough to witness the aftermath of her birthday, one of those milestone years that makes you question your entire life up to that point. She finds her in the bathroom, tucked between the toilet and the tub, with her knees drawn into her chest and a wad of tissues in her hand.

“Hey…” she greets her softly and slowly crouches down in front of her. “What’s going on?”

Erin sniffles loudly and wipes her nose with the wad of tissues, “This stupid thing won’t open.”

She shakes a small bottle of pain relievers and then tosses it at the wall. Holtzmann frowns and retrieves it for her.

“Why do you want to open this?”

“Because I need to take one. If I don’t, I’m going to wake up completely hung over tomorrow and then I won’t be able to help anyone. I’ll be completely useless and you guys will kick me off the team and then I’ll be alone. Just sad Erin with her stupid hangover and no job sitting alone in her apartment.”

Holtzmann suppresses a smile as she pops open the child proof lid of the bottle and shakes a pill into Erin’s palm.

“Better?”

Erin swallows it down with some water and nods, “Also, my finger hurts.”

“Why does your finger hurt?”

“Because I jammed it in the window when I tried to open it. See?” She holds out her hand to reveal a very obviously bruised ring finger sporting a sizeable gash across the knuckle.

Holtzmann removes her glasses and tucks them into her pocket. “Do you have band-aids and some antiseptic?”

Erin sniffles loudly and stares at her bleeding finger, “Under the sink, I think.”

Holtzmann rummages through a few cupboards and drawers and returns with a small handful of items.

“Let’s get you patched up,” she announces with a smile and sits cross legged in front of her on the floor.

Erin watches intently as Holtzmann takes great care to clean her gash and then rub some topical ointment on it before applying a fresh bandage. Once everything is in place she returns Erin’s hand to her with a patient smile, “There. All better!”

“You’re not done,” Erin protests. The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them and she silently vows to never drink tequila again as long as she lives. “You need to kiss it better.”

Far from looking annoyed, Holtzmann appears vastly amused by drunk Erin’s demands. She acquiesces with a small bow and takes up her hand. Fixing her with a sly smile, she lowers her lips to her injured finger and places a soft kiss atop the bandage.

“Better?” she asks with a raised brow.

Erin nods and Holtzmann begins to pick up the small pile of first aid items off the floor. Erin knows that the second she stands up the moment will be gone. Holtzmann will convince her to walk out that door and go back to the party and she’ll go with her because a drunk girl in her thirties can only have a good self pity cry for so long before she becomes something pathetic. She doesn’t want it to end, this moment, this time with her. She’d stay here all night if she could, watching her tenderly bandage every part of her.

“There’s one more thing,” she blurts out and Holtzmann looks up distractedly. Erin leans forward and kisses her. It’s sloppy and off center and lasts for only a few seconds before she loses her balance and falls against the tub.

She doesn’t want to look up to see the expression that must be on Holtzmann’s face, but knows she must. She braces herself for the worst and prepares to feel like absolute shit in the morning, but Holtzmann doesn’t look angry or disgusted or anything other than surprised. She helps her up without a word, as if it’d never happened, and carefully arranges her dress back into place.

“You’re not angry?” she blurts out as Holtz makes one last adjustment to the hem of her dress. Lesson number two for the night, never wear a dress when you’re planning to drink tequila. It will inevitably become hopelessly tangled and be more trouble than it’s worth.

Holtzmann ignores the question and takes a quick second to adjust her bangs so they lay straight across her forehead. “Come on, birthday girl, let’s get you back to your party.”

In the morning she wakes up to a massive hangover and the memory of her drunken attempt at kissing Holtzmann. Her insides churn as her mind obsesses over what Holtz must think of her now. She groans out loud and is promptly sick in the large pot someone (Holtzmann?) thoughtfully left next to her bed.


	7. Day 370

The first time she tells Holtzmann she loves her is in the middle of a massacre. A 270 year old massacre of Lenape Indians, whose ghosts chose the anniversary of their deaths to make their feelings known in violent fashion. Erin figures she'd be angry too if she’d seen her family murdered by a hoard of angry settlers over nothing but rumours. Still, all the sympathy in the world isn't going to keep her head attached to her body the way weapons are being thrown around, specifically tomahawks aimed with alarming accuracy.

She tosses a proton grenade at a group of warriors closing in on Patty and quickly dives for cover as another tomahawk flies past her head.

“We need more power!” she shouts to anyone who will listen.

“There’s more side arms in the car!” Holtz shouts back while fending off a double-sided attack with a blast from her proton shotgun. “Go! I’ll cover you!”

Erin runs faster than her legs have ever carried her, accompanied by the rapid bursts of Holt’s gun. She reaches the car and tears open the door.

“Weapons, weapons, weapons,” she mutters as her eyes scan the interior. Finding them atop a shelf, she grabs what she can carry and dives back into the fight. A quick toss of a proton grenade buys Holtzmann a bit of breathing room, and she tosses another towards the group Abby and Patty are fighting.

“Thanks,” Holtz says with a nod and fires off another shot. “You got one for yourself?”

Erin holds up a small gun about the size of a pistol and Holtz smiles, “You’ll like that one. I made it special for you.”

“Guys, look out!”

They turn at the sound of Patty’s cry only to see a slew of ghostly arrows heading right for them. Erin freezes, her body refusing to move as the arrows inch closer. Holtzmann slams the digital control panel strapped to her arm and then tackles her to the ground. The arrows hit, each one incinerated by the shield protecting Holtz’s back. When the attack ceases, she lets up and Erin is beside herself, her body trembling from head to toe.

“We almost died,” she manages to say and looks at Holtzmann wide-eyed. “You saved my life!”

“All in a day’s work,” she replies, alarmingly casual as she gets up and helps Erin to her feet.

“What was that on your back? Some kind of shield?”

“A little something I’ve been working on,” Holtz tells her with a shrug. “I thought it might help protect you from getting slimed.”

Erin’s mouth opens but no words come out. The thought of Holtz making something like that just for her leaves her speechless. She wants to say something but struggles to find the right words. And then there isn’t time because two tomahawks are heading their way.

She moves automatically, instinctively throwing her arm in front of Holtz and aiming her proton pistol at the ghostly weapons. She fires and the kick back sends her into Holtz and then both of them into the car. The explosion is astounding. There’s nothing left of the tomahawks or the ghosts who threw them. She stares down at the gun in awe and blurts out, “I think I love you.”

Holtz’s brows shoot up and she hurriedly adds, “…for making this gun. It’s incredible!”

If she hadn’t glanced up just then she never would have caught the subtle way Holtz’s expression deflates. A second later her smile is back and she’s giving her a good-natured pat on the back, “All in a day’s work.”

Erin smiles but she can’t help wondering why she felt the need to qualify her declaration of love. Did she _love_ Holtzmann? Her eyes linger a few seconds too long on the blonde engineer who only moments ago saved her life. She feels her heart skip a beat when Holtz’s eyes catch hers and quickly looks away.

What she feels for her is something undeniably real and powerful, but is it love? And more importantly, could Holtz ever possibly feel that way about her? She doesn't know and not knowing makes it all so much harder.

She's thankful when the ghosts rally for another attack because she's in desperate need of a distraction.


	8. Day 400

The first time they kiss (for real) they’re caught in a rain storm. They’re tipsy on overpriced ballpark beers and trapped beneath the awning of a leather repair store.

“I can’t believe it got rained out!” she shouts over the deafening roar of the rain atop the tin awning. “When does that ever happen?”

Holtz shakes her head and looks up at the clouds, “I don’t think it’s going to let up any time soon.”

“How far is it to the subway? Far?”

Holtz nods and glances up and down the street for a taxi. Everyone else must have had the same idea because there isn’t a single yellow cab in sight.

“I had a lot of fun today,” Erin tells her and shivers a little as the wind picks up. “Really, I did. Thanks for taking me to the game.”

Holtz looks her way, her gaze lingering, “I had fun too.”

A warm rush travels through her sending goose bumps rippling down her arms. She likes it when Holtz looks at her in that unguarded way. It’s a look she used to reserve just for Abby, but occasionally these days she’s on the receiving end and it always feels like some sort of personal accomplishment. Holtz smiles at her, not as a joke or to tease, but in a real, genuine way that make her heart skip a beat and her lips pull into a shy smile of their own.

“I think we’ll be here all night if we wait for a cab,” she comments and does her best to change the subject. Because that’s what she does best when a situation gives her butterflies, she finds a way to extricate herself from it as quickly as possible.

Holtz, ever unhurried, slides her hands into her pockets and leans back against the window of the shop, “I don’t mind.”

“We could get pizza,” she suggests and rubs at the goose bumps on her bare arms. “It isn’t far, just a few blocks over. Best pizza on this side of town.”

Holtz’s expression lights up, “Lead the way!” She holds out her arm and Erin takes it, hugging it close as they step back out into the torrential rain.

The walk is a little further than a few blocks, but Holtz doesn’t complain. Erin almost single-handedly keeps the conversation going, talking about everything and nothing. Holtzmann gets quiet four blocks in and Erin notices but she can’t stop talking because once she does things might get awkward or Holtzmann might say the words she’d been dreading for weeks now and she’s not ready for this to end.

She wants to keep going on dates and being casually flirtatious and talking, because it’s been so long since she’s had someone to actually _talk_ to, someone who’ll listen and understand and not judge. Friends like that are so incredibly hard to find and the thought of losing Holtzmann makes her talk and talk and talk until she completely runs out of things to say.

They’re standing outside the pizzeria but Holtzmann doesn’t make a move to go in. Her hands are stuffed deep into the pockets of her slacks and she glances up and down the street. If Erin didn’t know any better she’d think she was nervous about something.

“I have a theory,” she says suddenly and squints at something in the distance. “There's this...hypothesis...I want to test out.”

Erin’s tilts her head inquisitively, “What kind of theory?”

This isn’t the first time Holtzmann has talked shop with her. One of their favourite things to do is bounce ideas off one another. It usually ends with Erin completely blown away by how Holtz’s mind works, and how she so effortlessly develops applications for concepts they've only just begun to consider in theory. She waits, eager to hear Holtz’s latest theory, all thoughts of pizza momentarily forgotten.

Holtz blows out a quick breath and mutters a quiet “Okay…” and steps in close. She hesitates for only a second and then her mouth is on hers, the touch of her lips soft and warm in contrast to the chilled rain.

It isn’t like the first time they kissed, the time Erin would very much like to forget. It isn’t sloppy or off-centered or off balance. It’s sweet and gentle and unexpected but she doesn’t pull away. Instead her arms unfold and her hands go tentatively to Holtz’s waist, her fingers clutching at the soaked material of her shirt. Holtz’s hands slowly lift out of her pockets and Erin thinks she might pull away but she doesn’t. She shifts closer and her hands lightly cup her face. She keeps kissing her and the deliberate way Holtz's mouth moves over hers sends her into a tailspin, her mind whirring with more questions than she has answers.  

Soon, far too soon, Holtz pulls away and subtly licks her lips. Erin’s hands stay clenched around the material of her shirt and she slowly opens her eyes, blinking them against the rain. Holtz gives a faint, almost apologetic smile.

“I had to know,” she stammers and takes a step back. Her hand goes to her lips and she shakes her head, “Oh god, I'm sorry Erin....”

Without another word she turns heel and retreats quickly down the street. Erin calls after her but when she doesn’t stop or turn around she doesn’t chase her. Instead she wraps her arms around herself and stares gloomily down the street at Holtz’s retreating figure.

Somehow she’d imagined things would go differently. She’d thought about what it would be like to kiss Holtz, really kiss her, more than once and more often as of late. There were a lot of different scenarios her mind had come up with, but tonight left her completely confused. She felt like she was out on a raft in the middle of the ocean and her anchor had just been cut. Was this some sort of test she didn’t pass?

A shiver jets down her spine and lingers, making her tremble in the rain. A cab pulls up to the curb and she gets in.

“Where to?”

She thinks of telling him to go after Holtzmann and quickly feels her heart sink.

“Home,” she replies and falls back against her seat before giving the driver her address.

Somehow she’d done it even though she’d tried everything in her power not to. She’d found a way to screw it all up and had no idea where to even begin starting to fix it.


	9. Day 401

The first time Holtzmann shows up at her door in the middle of the night, it’s 3 am and she’s soaking wet from the rain.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” she blurts out the minute Erin opens the door. “I freaked out and I shouldn’t have done that to you and I’m sorry.”

Erin steps aside so Holtz can come in and closes the door softly behind her. She heads to the kitchen where she pulls down two glasses from the cupboard and retrieves a bottle of rum from her freezer. Something tells her they’re going to need it.

Holtz gives a grateful nod and drinks down the entirety of her glass in a single gulp. Erin slowly unscrews the lid to the bottle and pours another helping into the engineer’s cup before setting it atop the counter.

“Why _did_ you kiss me?” she asks and takes up her glass so she has something to occupy her hands.

“Because I’ve been wanting to for months.”

Holtzmann takes a sip of her rum and begins to pace along the small space between her kitchen and living room.

“I don’t do this. I have rules about getting involved with friends.”

“Is that what we’re doing? Getting involved?”

Holtzmann halts and fingers the glass in her hands, “That's up to you.”

“Me?”

Erin feels a nervous flush prickle up her neck and she wonders if this is all some sort of elaborate dream. Three hours ago she’d cried in the shower thinking she’d screwed things up entirely with one of the few friends she has, and now Holtz is standing in her kitchen giving her hope that all is not lost.

 “I’m in,” Holtz assures her. “I’m all in. I’m the bases loaded, full count, one pitch left, sort of all in.”

“So what was it about kissing me that turned you off?” she asks as her cheeks flush red. The image of Holtz retreating down the street is a pervasive one and she can’t seem to shake it. It reminds her that in some way, maybe in every way, she’s lacking something that would make her the sure choice.

Holtz balks. She sets her glass atop the counter and her hands go to her shoulders, gripping them through her robe, “Nothing. Erin, nothing about kissing you could ever turn me off.”

“But…” Erin flounders as her mind searches for an explanation. “You walked away.”

“I had to.”

Holtzmann expels a weighted sigh and Erin takes note of the small crease that forms between her brows as they knit together. “I’ve been down this road before and know how it turns out. I won’t let things be weird, I promise.”

She stands there in her robe wondering how they came to this moment. Months of flirting and casual touches and growing feelings and poorly-planned kisses, and movie nights, and date nights, all so what – Holtzmann could tell her she’d changed her mind? She knows she should feel something like sadness or disappointment or regret, but all she feels is annoyed. It burns through her, replacing everything else.

“So that’s it? You just decided all on your own that this could never work?” she snaps and Holtzmann’s eyes go wide. Her hands fall away from her shoulders and she struggles to explain.

“I just thought…”

“What - that I wasn’t ready? Or that I’d break your heart? You’ve gone and mapped out our entire relationship in your head and concluded it couldn’t possibly work without once asking me what I thought about it. It’s bad science, Holtz. You always have to consider every variable before making a conclusion.”

It’s a stupid point, really, and she knows it the minute the words leave her mouth, but it brings a fleeting smile to Holtz’s lips. Her annoyance wavers and she looks at her friend with sympathy.

“Look, I don’t know what happened before but I’m guessing it ended badly. All I’m saying is I think we should give this a shot. I think I’m worth giving it a shot for.”

There. She’d made her case and put the ball solidly in Holtzmann’s court. The blonde engineer’s quiet a long moment then her expression lifts and her shoulders give a light shrug, “You’re right.”

Erin blinks, not certain she heard correctly, “Wait, I’m right? Just like that?”

Holtz nods, “Yup.”

“So we’re going to do this thing? For real?”

“Hey, if it sucks we can always blame it on the rum.”

Erin laughs and sets her nearly full glass atop the counter next to Holtz’s. She’s bursting with nervous energy, her heart racing a mile a minute in expectation.

“We should probably get you out of those wet clothes. I can pop them in the dryer,” she offers, her voice softening as Holtz draws closer.

"Later," she says as her finger hooks in the belt of her robe and slowly pulls it loose. The robe falls open revealing her pajamas underneath - a navy blue tank top and a pair of grey shorts. She glances down, embarrassed, and wishes she’d thought to put something more enticing on. But then, she never could have predicted that things would turn out this way.  

Holtz doesn’t seem to notice or care what she’s wearing. Her hands settle lightly atop her waist and her cool lips drift down her neck before planting a kiss atop her clavicle. So, it’s going to be that sort of night. Holtz’s lips find a particularly sensitive spot on the side of her neck and a tantalizing shiver jets down her spine. She’d imagined, on more than one occasion, that their first time would be the sort of hot, clothes tearing sex she’d read about in romance novels since she was twelve. But this is better. It's slow and deliberate and nothing at all what she expected.

She has to remind herself to move slowly as she pulls Holtz’s leather jacket from her shoulders and lets it fall in a heap on the floor at their feet. Next is her t-shirt. It’s drenched and literally drips water as she pulls it over Holtz’s head and deposits it in the empty kitchen sink. The engineer shivers and Erin runs her hands over the goose bumps rippling across her torso.

“Come on,” she urges and takes her by the hand. “Let’s get you warmed up.”

“Oh I’m warm,” Holtz insists but Erin leads her to the bathroom and turns on the shower. Holtz looks as if she might protest, but once she slips off her robe and then her tank top, the message becomes clear enough. Vowing to be brave and not over think it, she boldly slips off her bottoms, kicks them to the side and steps into the tub.

When did she become bold, confident, sex goddess Erin? She certainly doesn't feel confident. Her hands are trembling with nervous energy and she's really wishing she'd remembered to shave her legs. Her eyes lift to the ceiling and she says a silent prayer to anyone who will listen. It feels like her first time all over again and she's terrified she'll embarass herself in some mortifying way because that's what she does best.

But she also hasn't waited this long to wimp out now. Whatever happens tonight she wants it to be good (no pressure or anything...) and if that means faking a bit of confidence, well, she's determined to do it.

With a quick breath to steel her nerves, she pulls back the curtain just enough to poke her head out. Holtz is staring at her, stunned, her hand lingering on the belt of her pants. Erin realizes she's not the only one who's nervous and feels a huge weight lift from her shoulders. It's going to be okay. They'll muddle through it together.

“Coming?” she asks coyly and then slides the curtain closed. She does her best to stay calm as she listens to the metallic clink of Holtz's belt hitting the tile floor, and the wet slap of her pants when they follow.

The curtain slides open a moment later and Holtz steps in. Erin can't help but take a second to appraise her, her eyes skimming over all the parts she's seeing for the first time. A smile lights her face and she wonders again if this is all some sort of elaborate dream.

Her eyes search Holtz's as her hands slide down to her naked hips and pull her close. Her skin is so incredibly soft and still freezing cold from the rain. The cool touch of Holtz's hands down her back makes her shiver and she wonders how long she stood outside before working up the courage to come knock on her door.

“It’s been a while since I did this,” Holtz admits quietly as her hands settle on the small of her back.

Erin feels her heart ramming against her rib cage and a shy smile pulls at her lips, "Hey, me too."

Holtz's expression softens and her eyes take a moment to search hers before she leans in for a tender kiss.

It isn't until their fingers and toes are fully pruned and the hot water tank has run dry that they finally turn the shower off and head for Erin's room. 

Twelve hours later, Erin returns to the kitchen to retrieve Holtz’s damp clothes and put them in the wash. It’s another twelve before either of them remembers they should probably go in the dryer, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised - The next chapter contains some sexually explicit content ;)


	10. Day 410-14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE - This chapter has some explicit Holtzbert sex.

The first time she cooks Holtzmann breakfast, she’s in her underwear and grooving to the sound of “Sussudio” on the radio. The blonde engineer emerges from the bedroom wearing a t-shirt, underpants and a smile.

“What’s cookin?” she asks and slides her arms around her waist. Her chin settles atop her shoulder and Erin carefully moves the eggs around in the pan.

“Scrambled eggs, toast and coffee. I know it’s not much, but I haven’t been to the store in a few days.”

Holtz utters a knowing “Hmm” and gives a wink as she snatches a piece of jam laden toast off the plate.

“Great tune,” she says and leans back against the counter to watch her work.

Erin splits the eggs between the two plates she’s laid out and turns off the stove, “I know right? Genesis is completely under-rated.”

She holds out a plate to Holtz and gives a light shrug, “I hope you like scrambled eggs.”

“What’s not to like?” she protests and shoves a forkful into her mouth.

They stand at the counter eating silently with the empty kitchen table in full view.

“You know, I never eat at that table,” Erin says off-handedly and takes a thoughtful sip of her coffee. “I’ve lived here for three years and never once eaten a meal there.”

Holtz gives a thoughtful “Hmm” and finishes off her last bite of toast. She carries her plate and coffee to the table and sets them down. Erin follows with a smile and Holtz holds out a chair for her. She sits down and Holtz takes the seat next to her.

“Thanks,” Erin blushes feeling a little embarrassed.

“It’s a nice table,” Holtz comments and spreads her hands across it. “Very sturdy.”

“I got it at this furniture shop in Chelsea. They have the cutest stuff.”

“All my furniture is milk crates,” Holtz tells her straight-faced, and Erin doesn’t doubt it for a second. She has yet to see Holtz’s apartment for herself, but can only imagine the sort of wonders and curiosities it contains.

“Would you mind if I got your table a little dirty?” Holtz asks suddenly and Erin doesn’t quite know how to respond.

“I guess not? Wait…how dirty is dirty?”

Holtz picks up their empty plates, depositing them both in the sink. Next she plucks Erin’s coffee cup from her hands and sets it atop the counter next to hers.

“Just trust me. You’ll enjoy this,” she promises with a wink and holds out a hand to help her up. Erin follows and Holtz promptly lifts her onto the edge of the table.

“What…?”

Holtz grins devilishly and takes a seat in Erin’s chair, pulling it up close to the table. Her hands slide up Erin’s legs, from her ankles to her knees and then gently pull them open.

“Wait, are you…? Erin stutters and Holtz lifts a brow in silent question.

When Erin can’t find the words to protest, Holtz slides a finger beneath her underwear and pulls it to the side. Her tongue follows, and delivers the kind of maddening wet torture that has Erin’s eyes rolling back and a groan falling from her lips. Holtz slides her underwear down her legs and deposits them on the floor while her face remains buried between her thighs and Erin can't remember ever seeing anything so incredibly hot in all her life. 

The moment Holtz’s hands cup her ass and lift her hips towards her mouth Erin lays back against the table and willingly relinquishes all power to the masterful expertise of Holtz’s tongue. She’s moaning and squirming, her hips bucking against the engineer’s talented mouth. This may qualify as one of the kinkiest things she’s ever done. She loves that about her, the way everything is unpredictable right down to the where and the how of when they have sex.

When Holtz senses she’s getting close, she slides a couple fingers into her mouth to wet them and then slips them into her warm, wet center. Erin feels her muscles clench tight around them and jerks her head off the table with a drawn out string of profanity. The engineer’s fingers move slowly at first, pumping in and out of her, and then pick up speed to work in time with her tongue.

Erin doesn’t last long, not with that sort of sensory onslaught. She comes hard, toe curling, profanity screaming, body arching off the table kind of hard. Holtz slows her movements as she comes down, and Erin is helpless as her body twitches with aftershock after aftershock after aftershock. Holtz slides her fingers out and pops them in her mouth to lick them clean, then goes back to tease her with feather light kisses against the inside of her thighs and her still-pulsing clit.  

“Oh my god,” she manages once her ability to speak coherent words returns. “I'll never be able to eat at this table again.”

Holtz laughs and takes hold of her hands. She pulls, gently helping her sit up straight. Erin feels drunk and woozy and she shakes her head as a giddy smile crosses her lips. Judging by the hungry look in Holtz’s eyes, she’s nowhere close to being finished with her and Erin feels her body pulse in eager expectation.

The engineer leans in for a sensual kiss and Erin can taste herself on her lips. She doesn’t mind, but she savours the taste of Holtzmann more and she hasn’t had nearly enough. Her arms wrap loosely around Holtz’s neck as the engineer’s hands guide her legs around her waist. She carries her to the bedroom and kicks the door shut behind them.

They don’t emerge again until well past dinner and when neither of them seems inclined to rest, Erin suggests Holtz stay the night. She eventually goes home three days later, and Erin can’t help but think that even then the short distance to her apartment feels too far.


	11. Day 431

The first time Holtzmann brings her flowers, they’re in the form of a flowering cactus.

Erin smiles down at the single red bloom and is careful not to prick her fingers on the spikes, “It’s beautiful, thank you. What’s the occasion?”

“I couldn’t help noticing all the plants in your apartment are dead. I thought maybe this one would be harder to kill.”

Erin shamefacedly bows her head, “It’s true, I’m terrible with plants. I kill everything I touch.” She laughs it off even as she wonders what other things Holtz has noticed in all the times she’s been to her apartment but has been to gracious or kind to point out.

“Well hopefully not this,” Holtz responds with a smile.

Erin holds the baby cactus close and promises she’ll do her best to keep it alive. Holtz lingers next to the table and nervously adjusts the arm of her glasses behind her ear.

“It’s…uh…also been a month since we started this thing…and I wanted to commemorate the occasion.”

It shouldn’t have surprised her that Holtz was the sentimental sort. She glances down at the baby cactus and a rush of warmth floods through her chest. She’d known what date it was of course, but hadn’t wanted to make a big thing of it without knowing where Holtz stood first. Was she the kind of person who even celebrated anniversaries? Or did she think it was a bunch of sentimental nonsense? Erin finally had her answer and it was cradled lovingly between her hands.

Her expression falls when her eyes lift to Holtz’s, “I’m sorry. I don’t have any flowers for you.”

Holtz shrugs and gives an easy smile, “Don’t worry about it. What am I gonna do with flowers?”

Erin nods, a slow smile spreading across her face, “That’s exactly what I thought. Which is why I got you this instead.”

Sliding open the third drawer of her desk, she pulls out a notebook with a monogram on the front cover. It’s a mock up of her “screw you” necklace, with the initials J.H. printed beneath. She slides it across the table and enjoys watching Holtzmann’s eyes go wide.

“I noticed your other notebook was looking a bit worn, so I thought you might need a new one…”

Holtz’s mouth splits into a wide grin, “Are you kidding? This is awesome!”

Her smile is contagious and soon Erin can feel the familiar ache in her cheeks. It’s always that way when they spend enough time together, her face just can’t seem to stop smiling. She leans in close and darts a careful glance at Patty and Abby who are fully engrossed in their own work.

“Wait three minutes and then follow me to the roof.”

Holtz gives a knowing look and a wink, then saunters back to her work station to tinker with mechanical parts until enough time has passed.

Erin quietly packs up one of the books she was reading and returns it to the bookshelf. The cactus she sets delicately next to her computer and is tempted to give it a little pat before reminding herself that cacti have thorns and they most definitely hurt. With a darted glance at Holtzmann, she grabs a book off her table and heads upstairs to the roof.

The clandestine theatrics are a bit juvenile, even she’ll admit, but they haven’t found the time to tell Abby and Patty exactly what’s going on between them. Mostly because she isn’t even sure how to define it – are they a couple? Are they just trying this thing on to see how it fits? It was easy at first to keep it under wraps, but she knows the longer they stay together the harder it will be to keep it a secret. And their friends deserve to know the truth, Abby especially. Sneaking behind their backs, as thrilling as it can be sometimes, isn’t fair to any of them and she resolves to speak with Holtzmann about it soon.

Right on cue, the blonde haired engineer comes through the door to the roof and grins in her direction. Erin feels her heart jump the way it always does when Holtzmann looks at her that way. She smiles as Holtz’s arms slip around her waist and she clasps her hands behind her neck.

“I’m really glad we did this,” she says, and hopes Holtz knows what she means.

The engineer’s eyes dart between hers from behind her yellow-tinted lenses and then she leans in for a kiss. Erin’s lost count of how many kisses they’ve had, but each one feels like the first. She gets a nervous hitch in her throat just before their lips touch and then a rush of warmth through her veins once they do. She’s certain she could live until the age of 100 and never get tired of kissing Holtzmann, not with the way she kisses. It’s never hurried or demanding, but always soft and deliberate. It's as though for those moments she’s the most important thing in her world.

When Holtz is ready, she pulls back and nervously adjusts with the arm of her glasses behind her ear.

“Hey, Erin?” she says and then hesitates just long enough to flash a shy smile, “Me too.”   


	12. Day 460

The first time Erin feels jealous, they’re at a bar for "80s Night". They stumbled upon it completely by accident the first time and have gone every couple of weeks since. If Holtzmann loves anything, she loves to dance and Erin loves dancing with her.

During a lull in the music, she offers to buy them another round. Holtz is already fully engrossed in the next song, but she nods her head to the beat of the music.

“Next one’s on me!” 

The line’s long, but two songs later Erin's manages to work her way to the front. The bar tender hands over the pints just as the DJ switches things up with a slow number. The electric piano harmonies of Gowan’s “Moonlight Desires” float through the speakers and Erin smiles as she squeezes through the crowd to find her way back to Holtzmann. Every time she hears this song it reminds her of their relationship and how it took so long for her to realize what she was feeling for the eccentric engineer was every bit as real and genuine and reciprocated as it was.

She reaches the edge of the dance floor and goes up on her tip toes to search for the shock of blonde hair that will point her to Holtzmann. It’s a long minute before she sees her through the crowd and then she freezes, the smile falling from her face completely. Holtz is dancing with someone. She’s young and cute, with long dark hair and olive skin. And she's sending flirty smiles over her shoulder at Holtz who, for the moment, is too immersed in the music to notice.

Erin’s fingers tighten around the pint glasses in her hands and she watches them sway to the music, and share the odd comment with smiles and a laugh. Her heart clenches tight in her chest and she knows she’s going to cry about it later, but right now she’s too annoyed. With her jaw clenched shut, she navigates her way through the crowd of dancing bodies and arrives at Holtzmann’s side. 

“Hey,” she bites out. “I got your beer.”

Erin aims a forced smile at the girl and notices that up close she’s far prettier than she thought at first. Realizing she’s in the middle of something she has no interest in being in the middle of, the girl thanks Holtzmann for the dance and sashays off to find another willing partner.

“Having fun?” Holtz takes a sip of her beer and starts swaying her hips to the rhythm of “Come and Get Your Love”, completely oblivious to the fact that Erin's most definitely not having fun.

“Who’s that you were dancing with?” she demands and feels like every stereotypical jealous girlfriend Hollywood has ever put into a movie.

Holtz shrugs, and rocks her body to the beat, “Denise. She’s a sophomore at NYU.” When she sees the taught lines of annoyance around her mouth, Holtz's dancing slows to a halt, “What’s wrong?”

“Oh nothing. I just really enjoy watching you dance with other women. Especially ones who are cute and fit and sophomores at NYU!”

She’s gesturing with her hands now, which is always a bad sign. She punctuates every other word with a jab of her hand through the air and by the time she’s finished she’s breathing heavy and her cheeks are flushed with emotion.

Holtzmann puts a hand lightly on her shoulder and gives her a searching look, “Erin, it didn’t mean anything.”

“I don’t care if it meant something,” she grinds out and shrugs off Holtzmann’s hand. “I care that I’m not gone two minutes before some other girl is dancing with you and flirting with you and you didn't seem to mind.”

Holtz's brow dips into a confused furrow, “It was just a dance.”

Erin wants to say more but she checks herself before words she’s certain she’ll regret come tumbling out of her mouth. If there’s one benefit to getting older, it’s the tighter control she’s gained over her brain to mouth filter. Judging by the look on Holtz’s face she doesn’t have the slightest idea why she’s upset or why this is even an issue.

For a moment Erin wonders if she’s misread the signals somehow. She’s never dated another woman before, so doesn’t have the first clue about the rules that go along with this sort of thing. Are lesbians more casual about the whole monogamy thing? She’s always been a monogamous person herself, but it occurs to her for the first time that maybe Holtz isn’t and she doesn’t know how she feels about that. What she does know, what she’s absolutely certain of, is that she can’t bear the thought of sharing Holtzmann with anyone else. Just the thought of it turns her stomach, which means they’re going to have to talk about where they stand on the issue soon, before things get too involved and her heart gets broken. But judging by how she feels at the moment, it might already be too late for that.

Erin catches the eye of a young girl heading onto the dance floor and sees an opportunity to make Holtz understand.

“Can you hold this?” she asks and quickly shoves her beer into Holtzmann’s hand. “I’ll be back,” she promises and then picks her way across the dance floor to the girl who’d winked at her just moments ago. She’s young, early twenties, and has chin-length hair dyed no natural colour of red.

“Hey,” she greets her with her best attempt at a flirtatious smile. “Wanna dance?”

The girl grins and turns her body into hers so they’re dancing together, moving to the upbeat rhythm of "Love is a Battlefield". She dances out of spite at first, but it only takes a few bars for her to truly start enjoying herself. She laughs as her and the girl come up with matching dance moves on the fly and look completely ridiculous while doing so.

By the time the song winds down her cheeks are flushed and she’s out of breath, but feels a hundred times better than she did only a few short minutes earlier. She thanks the girl for the dance and genuinely means it before heading back through the crowd to find Holtzmann. She finds her leaning up against one of the large decorative pillars on the outskirts of the dance floor, wearing an expression Erin’s never seen on her before. Her smile fades as she draws closer and wonders whether she's gone too far. 

“You looked like you were having fun,” Holtz says, though her eyes don’t meet Erin’s.

“I was,” she replies, still a little out of breath. “I hope you didn’t mind. It’s just dancing, right?”

Holtz’s eyes snap to hers and Erin can see her jaw working overtime as she thinks of how she wants to respond. Going to dance with someone else right under her nose had been petty, sure, but it was the only way she could make her understand. And however petty it was, it seemed to have worked.

“I'm gonna go,” Holtz says finally and finishes what’s left of her beer before walking out. Erin sets her glass down atop the nearest table and follows her out the door.

“Holtz, wait! Holtzmann!”

Holtz rounds on her the second they hit the sidewalk, her features drawn in a mask of annoyance.

“Look, I’m sorry,” she pleads. “I just wanted you to understand.”

“Oh, I understand.” Holtzmann turns her back and sticks her arm out to hail a passing cab. 

“Oh, come on! Don’t leave like this! Let’s at least talk about it.”

Holtz gets in the cab and shuts the door without a word. Erin watches it take off down the street and disappear around the corner before quietly cursing into the night.  

She walks home instead of taking a cab, twelve blocks in heels, and feels like crap the entire way. She resolves to head to Holtzmann’s in the morning to apologize and do whatever she can to fix it. Unless she's already damaged things beyond repair. The thought sits like a leaden weight in her stomach and nearly brings her to tears.

When she arrives at her apartment, Holtzmann is sitting outside her door with her head between her knees. She lifts it when she hears her approach and Erin's feet scrape to a halt. Even from where she's standing she can see that Holtz's eyes are red from crying and she feels like the biggest jerk that's ever lived. They stare at one another for a long minute before either of them says anything. 

“Wanna come in?” she asks softly and tilts her head towards her door. Holtzmann nods and picks herself up off the floor while Erin gets her door open. They barely get their shoes off and reach the kitchen before Holtz is apologizing.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” she says and leans against the counter with her hands stuffed into the pockets of her leather jacket. 

Erin leans against the opposite counter next to her fridge and loosely crosses her arms in front of her chest, “For what?”

“Dancing with that girl. Not listening. Storming off,” she lists off a series of offences and Erin gives a quiet nod of her head.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Holtz's eyes lift to hers, her expression guarded.

“I’m sorry for over-reacting," Erin clarifies. "And for being jealous over you dancing with someone else. And for dancing with that girl. I did it to be petty but I think I hurt you and I’m sorry for that.”

Holtz is quiet for a long moment and then braves a smile, “Apology accepted.”

Erin feels a rush of relief surge through her and lets out the breath she’s been holding, “Same here.”

Popping open the fridge door, she retrieves two beers and hands one to Holtzmann.

“It’s been a while since I really dated anyone,” Holtz admits with an uneasy shrug and cracks the twist top off her beer. “I guess I forgot some of the rules.”

“This is my fault, really,” Erin assures her. “I should have asked before how you felt about monogamy and all that. It just never occurred to me to ask.”

Holtz’s brows lift in surprise and she takes a long sip of her beer.

“Are you in Camp Monogamy? Or are you in…what’s the other one? Camp Polyamory?”

Holtz lowers her beer and gives a smile, “I’m in Camp Erin.”

“Yes, but, what does that _mean_ exactly?” And she's talking with her hands again. It's a horrible habit, and one she wishes she could break, because it always makes her feel just a tad bit crazy when she can't seem to make a valid point without waving her hands around. 

“It means I’m not interested in being with anyone else." A guarded smile crosses Holtz's lips and she leans in to add, "In case you hadn’t noticed, I kinda like you, Erin.”

A faint blush rushes to her cheeks, “So what you’re saying is we’re exclusive?”

“Well, I’ve never been good at sharing,” Holtz admits and Erin can't help but laugh.

"Clearly, neither am I."

She sobers up a minute later and begins to fidget, her fingers picking at the label on her bottle. “I’m glad we talked about this. I was worried when you left. I thought I’d ruined everything.”

Holtz crosses the kitchen in two short steps and pulls her into a tight hug. Erin closes her eyes and rests her forehead against the soft perch of Holtz's shoulder. She instantly feels a thousand times better and her earlier anxieties and insecurities melt away. She squeezes Holtz tight and places a soft kiss against her cheek before she pulls away.

“When I told you I was all in, I meant it.”

Holtz's eyes search hers for understanding and Erin feels her head nod. The words "I love you" catch on the tip of her tongue and she swallows them back down. Fourteen. That's the number of times she's wanted to tell Holtz she loved her and chickened out at the last minute. _Fourteen_. And she can remember each and every one in detail, right back to the very first whispered acknowledgement that she loved the eccentric engineer presently gazing at her with those beautiful, soft grey eyes.

It was an overcast Thursday morning and they'd ducked into a cafe for coffees before heading to the fire hall. It was the first time they'd ever gone to get coffee together, mostly because Holtzmann wasn't much of a coffee person (she much preferred hot chocolate) and Erin had always been a tea drinker. But this particular morning followed a particularly late night of love making and they both needed a caffeine fix if they were going to survive the day. And in Holtzmann's case it was especially important that she be running on all cylinders so as not to inadvertently blow them and their headquarters sky high.

Standing there in line waiting to order, with the loud blasts of the milk steamer and the bass grind of the espresso machine drowning out the indie genre music pumping through the overhead speakers, Holtz's fingers had quietly entwined with hers. It was the first public display of affection they'd shared since becoming a couple and Erin hadn't been able to hold back her smile. Holtzmann ordered the coffees for them once they reached the counter - black for herself and one milk, one sugar for her. She'd recited it without pause, as if this was something they did every day. And Erin could remember looking at her then, realizing that somewhere along the way Holtz had been watching her closely enough to memorize how she took her coffee, and thinking "God, I love her."     

That was the first time, and there'd been thirteen others since. Each time she held back for a different reason, but it all boiled down to the same problem - what if Holtz didn't love her back? There's no taking back the "L-word". Once you commit yourself to saying it, that's it, all your cards are on the table. If the other person loves you back, then it's the best possible hand you could have played. But if you say those words and they simply can't say them back? What then? Then you've created a power imbalance in the relationship and it's a recipe for disaster.

And she recognizes, too, that for all the ways that Holtz has told her she cares for her, she's never once used the L-word and that alone gives her pause. It's going to take a leap of faith for one of them to say it first, and she wants to be the one who's strong enough, vulnerable enough, to do it. But each time she gets close she's reminded of one simple fact - no one she's ever dated has told her they loved her back. She hopes Holtz will be different, that she'll be the one to break that awful track record because absolutely everything about their relationship feels better and stronger than all those others. She's never felt for anyone the way she feels for Holtz, so she figures there's gotta be something to that, right? But can it make her brave enough to be the first to utter those three little words?  

...not tonight.

Instead she smiles and gives a suggestive lift of her brow as her fingers pop open the top button of Holtz’s shirt. Holtz follows her cue and tilts her head just enough for a kiss. It’s gentle at first, as are the light tugs Erin gives to her jacket as she pulls it loose from her shoulders. Holtz's hands slide up her bare thighs beneath her dress and her kisses steadily becomes harder, more demanding. When her teeth drag across her bottom lip, Erin feels her knees go weak and grabs hold of the front of Holtz's belt to tug her closer. Her impatient fingers somehow manage to blindly slide the clasp open while the engineer does her best to distract her with exploratory kisses that make her groan with want.

In no time she’s seated atop the counter with Holtz between her thighs and they can’t seem to get their clothes off fast enough. Holtz’s jacket slides to the floor followed quickly by her t-shirt, which is shaken off without a second thought. The buttons on the front of Erin’s dress have come undone nearly to her navel and Holtz’s mouth is busy mapping out the tops of her breasts. And then her fingers are buried deep in the engineer's blonde hair, tightening as she arches her back because whatever Holtz is doing with her tongue feels so damn _good_ she doesn't want it to ever stop. 

Their movements are frantic, impassioned, and it's so different from all the other times. With hands and teeth and tongues and lips they lay claim to each other in a way they never have before. They don’t even make it to the bedroom. They have sex on her kitchen floor atop her discarded dress and Holtz’s jacket. When she wakes in the morning Holtz’s body is curled protectively around hers and she knows in that moment that everything’s going to be all right. She entwines their fingers, careful not to wake Holtz. The "I love you" hovers, just beyond her mouth, but she can't seem to give it breath. It's there and then it fades as quietly as it came, disappearing into the sound of Holtz's steady, even breaths.

_Fifteen._


	13. Day 475

The first time she visits Holtz’s apartment, it’s with a tub of soup and a package of Pringles.

Holtz is curled up on her couch, her body cocooned inside a large comforter. Erin sets her keys atop the counter and looks curiously around the small space.

Holtz hadn’t been kidding when she said all her furniture was milk crates. Her TV sits atop four carefully balanced milk crates of varying colour, her coffee table is two milk crates with a piece of plywood laid over top, and the side tables next to her couch are matching blue milk crates. Her bed is mercifully milk crate free, but is lacking any sort of bed frame so the mattress and box spring are piled atop one another on the floor. It reminds her a bit of what she envisions the average student dorm room to look like. The fleeting thought of taking Holtz out to that cute furniture shop in Chelsea to buy a table or two crosses her mind before she turns her attention to the blonde haired engineer who's barely visible beneath the blankets. 

“How are you feeling?” she asks and sets the soup and Pringles down on the coffee table. Holtz utters a long suffering groan and Erin’s features melt in sympathy. Her hand goes to Holtz’s forehead and tenderly brushes her hair back before she checks her temperature.

“You feel warm,” she comments and frowns. “Do you have a thermometer anywhere?”

Holtz shakes her head. “I don’t get sick,” she protests as if that’s explanation enough.

Erin exhales a quiet sigh and reaches for her purse, “Well, it’s a good thing I brought an extra then. Come on, open up.”

Holtz groans in protest but obediently opens her mouth so Erin can tuck the thermometer in.

“I brought you some soup,” she tells her while waiting for the thermometer to do its thing. “Abby swears it’s the best one for when you’re sick. And Pringles, too, for when you’re feeling better. Want some water?”

Holtz nods and Erin goes to search the kitchen for a glass. She finds them in a cupboard next to the oven, which is an odd place to store them she thinks, but then maybe Holtz thinks the same of her kitchen. She returns with the water and finds Holtz reaching for the Pringles. She moves them further away and puts the glass of water in her hand instead.

“I said the Pringles were for when you’re feeling better.”

The thermometer beeps and Holtz spits it out before burying herself back in the blankets.

“Hmmm… 102. Yup, you’ve got a fever all right. Here, take a couple of these.”

She deposits two pills in her Holtz’s hand and watches her swallow them.

“I started to get worried when you didn’t come to the fire hall today,” she confesses and takes a seat on the floor next to the couch.

“It’s just a cold,” Holtz insists and Erin suppresses a smile at her stubborn refusal to admit she has the flu.

“Well, I thought you might want some company. I brought “Dirty Dancing” for us to watch later.”

Holtz’s eyes shift to hers and she manages a glare that makes Erin laugh out loud.

“No? Not in the mood for shirtless Patrick Swayze? Okay, “Goonies” it is then.” She slips the DVD out of her purse with a grin and sets it on the table. It’s Holtz’s favourite movie, and what’s better than watching a classic when you’re sick? Holtz promptly shimmies down on the couch to create a space and she falls into it with a sigh after putting the DVD in the player. 

She spends most of the movie with Holtz's head on her lap and her fingers lightly combing through her hair. It’s the first time she’s felt at ease in nearly 72 hours. She’s a natural born worrier, but nothing’s worried her quiet so much as Holtz taking a second day off sick. Abby watched her putter about the fire hall all morning in a vain attempt to distract herself with work before ordering her to go and check on Holtz already before she drove them all crazy.

Erin smiles at the memory of Abby pushing her bodily out the door of the fire hall and ordering her not to come back until Holtz was with her. Abby knew she'd be no good to them until she was sure Holtz was okay. Despite their rough patch, Abby still knows her better than anyone (except maybe now for Holtz). She'd been such a wonderful source of strength and support over the last weeks. When they finally worked up the courage to tell her about their relationship, her face split into a massive grin and she pulled them into a big hug. The relief of telling her, of her unquestioning acceptance, was almost overwhelming. It felt like an invisible weight had been instantaneously lifted from her shoulders. Abby never once questioned the why and the how, she was just happy for them. Her love and support meant the world - to both of them.

The movie's half way through by the time she remembers the Pringles. She reaches for them and pops the lid open before handing them to Holtz. She gives a muffled cheer and snuggles down into the blankets with her silo of salty parabolas, but offers every third chip to Erin (who happily accepts).

By the time the credits start to roll the pills have done their job and Holtz is fast asleep.

“Holtz,” she whispers and gently nudges her shoulder. “Hey, Holtz, do you want me to help you to bed?”

The engineer replies with a string of incoherent syllables that might have sounded like words in her head. Still, she understands the sleepy nod of her head clearly enough and helps unwrap her from the cocoon of blankets. While she’s sure the romantic thing to do in this scenario would be to drape Holtz’s unconscious body across her arms and carry her to her bed, she’s severely lacking any sort of upper body strength. She makes do with draping Holtz’s arm around her shoulder and putting her other about her waist to help her walk the few short steps to her bed. She manages to get her under the covers and Holtz curls up with her head atop her pillow.

“Did you want me to stay?” she asks while her hand gently rubs the engineer’s back.

Holtz nods and Erin glances at the couch. Well, it won’t be the worst sleep she’s ever had. And at least this way if Holtz needs anything she’ll be there to help.

“All right,” she agrees, “I’ll stay.”

“Erin?” Holtz mumbles once she’s gotten to her feet.

She crouches next to her bed again, anticipating she’ll need some water or maybe a couple more pills. “Yeah?”

Holtz 's hand gives her arm an uncoordinated pat and she mutters a sleepy “I love you...” before passing out completely. 

She freezes in place, not quite sure what to say. Holtz has never used the L-word before. It’s scary territory, that L-word. It opens a whole new chapter of your relationship that there’s no going back from. For weeks now she's been struggling over whether she should simply say it first and deal with the consequences, whatever they might be. She'd hoped to find a good time, maybe a romantic night with just the two of them at her place for dinner, or while walking hand-in-hand on their way back from dancing all night to rockin' 80s tunes... But now Holtz's sleepy confession has beat her to it.  

Except that in her current state Holtz would probably insist elephants were purple if pressed hard enough. She wants to believe it's true, that Holtz could love her the same way she loves the eccentric engineer, but she knows better than to put too much credence in the things people say when they're not themselves. Especially when those things are potentially drug and fever induced confessions of love. 

She smiles and tenderly brushes the blonde curls that always have a mind of their own back from Holtz's forehead. She whispers a soft "Good night", presses a kiss to her cheek, then heads to the couch to sleep. 

It’s a terrible sleep. She spends most of the night tossing and turning, her mind ruminating over Holtz’s sleepy “I love you”. Should she ask her about it in the morning, or pretend like it never happened? Should she just suck it up and tell Holtz how she feels or wait until a better time? There doesn't seem to be any easy answers to the multitude of questions circling her brain. By the time the predawn light starts to peek through Holtz's curtains she gives up all hope of getting any sleep and decides to go for a walk. 

The morning air is cold and the walk is long, but it's exactly what she needs to clear her head and put things into perspective. She makes sure to pick up a few groceries while she's out so she can provide a reasonable excuse for leaving so early without admitting she'd spent the night brooding over a sleepily muttered "I love you" that Holtz probably doesn't even remember saying. 

By the time she returns, Holtz is awake and looking more like her old self. She's seated cross-legged on the couch and is trying to carefully pry the lid off the tub of soup. She looks up as Erin walks through the door and quickly forgets about the soup.

“I thought you left,” she says quietly.

Erin holds up the small bag of groceries and gives it a wiggle, “You didn’t have any food, so I went to get a couple things. Hungry?”

Holtz’s expression softens with relief and she sits back against the couch, “Yeah, actually. I feel like I could eat a horse.”

“Well, I don’t have any horse on the menu,” she teases, “but how does French toast sound?”

Holtz grins wide, “Amazing!”

Thirty minutes later they’re finishing off the last of the French toast when Holtz abruptly sets down her plate and clears her throat.

“So, about what I said last night...”

So she does remember. That's one question answered at least. But Erin has a feeling she knows where this conversation is headed, so keeps her eyes carefully averted to hide her disappointment. 

“I know I was probably delirious with fever and stuff…”

She gives a light shrug of her shoulders and braves a smile, “Hey, don’t worry about it. It happens.”

Holtz’s brow furrows and she shifts on the couch so she’s facing her, “Erin, I'm sorry..."

She doesn't let her finish. She might have found the courage to confess her feelings to Holtz on her long morning walk, but she won't be strong enough to do it if she has to listen to her explain how she didn't really mean what she said beforehand. 

"I have this philosophy," she cuts in and slowly sets her plate atop the coffee table. Holtz goes quiet. "I think people deserve to know when they're loved. Even if they're not ready to say it back, or even when they can't. This world can be a pretty crappy place sometimes, but knowing you're loved by someone out there makes even the worst days feels just a little better, you know?"

Holtz nods her head and her throat contracts as she swallows.  

"I've wanted to tell you so many times and in so many different ways, but every time I wimped out. I wasn't sure if you felt the same, but I've decided it doesn't matter anymore. I know how I feel about you, how I've felt for a while now, and I don't want to keep it to myself any longer. I love you, Holtz. In that big, dumb, heart eyes, first love, makes my body warm all over when I think about you, kind of way."

She gives a self deprecating smile and her shoulders lift into a hapless shrug. "If you're not ready, that's okay. I don't expect you to say it back, but I just wanted you to know and whatever happens...happens."

She finishes somewhat anti-climatically and finds the courage to lift her eyes to Holtz's. The engineer's wearing one of those grins that spreads from ear to ear and her cheeks are blushing pink. 

"So that's what it feels like..." she says with a thoughtful nod of her head. 

Erin had anticipated a number of different responses, but this one takes her completely by surprise. She's left floundering and mutters a confused, "What?"

Holtz's smile widens and she gives a silent laugh, "Sorry, I just...wow! You really love me, huh?"

Erin nods and gives a shy smile, still unsure how to read her reaction. "Well, yeah..."

Holtz sticks her hands up and slaps Erin's in an exuberant high five. "This is awesome!" 

"So...you're okay with this?"

"How could I not be?" she replies, incredulous. "Erin, you're wonderful, smart, funny, and cute as hell. I've been in love with you since the minute you walked into the Institute in that ultra-conservative suit of yours and demanded Abby take your book off Amazon. I just never thought you'd feel the same way about me."

Erin's eyes go wide and a steady blush creeps into her cheeks, "Really? Since way back then? But I was horrible to you guys..."

"You were feisty. It was hot," Holtz assures her with a lascivious grin. "Even in that skirt suit with the tiny bow tie."

Erin laughs and feels a bit silly for having waited so long to tell the truth about how she felt. Her hands find Holtz's and she knits their fingers together, loving the way they fit so effortlessly. 

"I should have said something sooner. I just wasn't sure if you felt the same way. I've had really bad luck with relationships in the past, and I just really didn't want to mess this one up."

Holtz's fingers give hers a squeeze and she shoots her an encouraging smile, “Erin, you’re the one thing in my life I’m absolutely certain about. Nothing you could say or do is going to change that.” She leans in and kisses her, softly on the cheek at first and then lingeringly on her lips.

"Hey Erin?"

She gives a soft 'Hmm?' as she pulls back and Holtz gently rubs her thumbs across the back of her hands in a light caress.

"I love you, too."

 


	14. Day 500

The first time she calls Holtzmann her girlfriend, they’re back at the new bar that opened just a few blocks from the fire hall. Only, it’s not new anymore. The owners have changed twice and the inside has a slightly different décor. But the beer is the same, and so is the crowd.

They sit at the same table as and it isn’t long before they’re approached by a trio of suits bearing a pitcher of beer.

“Can we interest you ladies in a drink?” the one holding the pitcher asks. His friends hang back and Erin gives Holtz an inquiring look.

“Sure,” Holtz answers with a wide grin.

The men take a seat and pour a bit of beer into their glasses. They chat and Erin no longer feels like the third wheel. Especially not with how often Holtz sends secretive smiles her way. She’d never known a relationship could be like this. Granted they’re only a few months in, but she’s quite literally never been happier. And judging by the way Holtz looks at her, neither has she.

“So how do you girls know each other?”

Holtz sips her beer and glances over at Erin with a raised brow.

“She’s my girlfriend,” she answers and is surprised how easily the words fly off her tongue. She hadn’t given what they had a label before that moment, nothing official anyway. Everyone who mattered knew about their relationship and the way they felt about one another was no secret, so slapping a label on it hadn't seemed necessary. She glances at Holtz, curious to see her reaction. She responds with a wink and sits confidently back in her chair.

“Yeah I know all you girls say that these days. But I mean really, are you classmates or something?”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘girlfriend’,” Holtzmann offers with a smug grin.

The guy pauses and looks at his buddies, clearly not understanding. One of his friends gives him an incredulous look and then blurts out, “Dude, seriously? They’re girlfriends. A couple. Les-bi-ans!”

Holtzmann quickly turns away to hide the amused smirk on her lips, leaving Erin to respond to his cry of “What? Seriously?”

She scrunches her nose and gives an apologetic nod.

His eyes dart incredulously between her and Holtz, “So you guys are like…together-together?”

“Totally.”

He slowly nods his head in understanding and takes a thoughtful sip of his beer, “You interested in a threesome?”

Erin’s mouth drops open but thankfully his buddies take care of the rest. One slaps him upside the head and the other abruptly gets up from the table, giving his friend a thinly veiled look of annoyance, “Dude, seriously?”

Turning to her he adds, “I’m sorry about him. He’s a dick. You guys have a nice night.”

Erin waves as they usher their drunk friend to a different area of the bar. Holtzmann leans her elbows atop the table and casually pours what remains of the pitcher of beer into their glasses.

“Welcome to every guy’s sexual fantasy,” she comments with a roll of her eyes.

Erin shrugs it off and takes a sip of her beer, “You don’t mind that I told him you’re my girlfriend? That’s okay, right?”

Holtz gives a smile, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I dunno, I just thought maybe you weren’t a labels person.”

Holtz leans in and kisses her. “I’ve been waiting 500 days to put a label on it. I’m good with labels,” she promises and Erin feels her cheeks flush hot.

“Wanna ditch this place?” she asks as her fingers casually entwine with Holtz’s atop the table. “I know this video game bar just down the road…”

“Do you now…”

“Yeah,” Erin answers with a playful grin. “Last time I was there I had an epic night at Mario Cart. You remember, don’t you?”

Holtz sighs and glances up at the ceiling, “You are never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Double or nothing says I beat you again.” 

“You’re on!”

* * *

_Author's Note:_ That's all she wrote :) Thank you for giving this story a chance. You guys have been wonderful and so incredibly supportive with your kudos and reviews. I was nervous posting my first full-length Holtzbert fic but you, my lovely readers, made it such a great process. If I could send you all a giant hug I would! Hope to be able to write some more Holtzbert for you soon! xo 


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